‘I make you afraid. Why are you so afraid of me, Jacob?’
Lilith’s scent is in his nostrils, pounding in his blood. ‘I’m… I’m afraid of my feelings.’
‘Liar. You’re afraid of what I’ll become. But like you, I’m simply a product of my environment. Which means you helped create me, just as I’ve created you.’
She grins. Leans in. Pauses. Licks his lips.
A tidal wave of insanity overwhelms him as his mouth crashes against hers and their limbs entwine in the embrace-two victims of society, two polar extremes, two lonely souls sharing this one promised moment of passion.
Lilith pants in his ear as her fingers scramble to undo the belt buckle of his pants – while Jacob’s hand slides beneath her silky bottoms, groping her moist pubic region, all the while his conscience screaming at him, No, Jacob stop, Jacob stop… stop… stop… STOP!
He yanks his hand free, pushing her away. ‘I can’t… I can’t do this!’
Lilith’s azure eyes are full of lust, her lips red where the kiss has bruised them. ‘We were meant to be together.’
‘No… too dangerous.’
‘I want you, Jacob.’ She slips off her top, exposing her breasts. ‘I want you inside of me, and I won’t take no for an answer.’
And suddenly she is upon him, raping him from within the nexus. Jacob’s mind leaps inside the void to join her, Lilith’s nude torso thrusting up and down upon his naked pelvis, the intensity of the moment magnified a hundredfold within the supernatural corridor.
And in his single moment of weakness, he explodes inside her, planting his Hunahpu seed deep in her ovulating womb.
Exhausted and spent, their minds tumble out of the nexus, Lilith collapsing upon his chest. ‘You’re my soul mate, you always will be.’
Jacob Gabriel wraps his arms around her and weeps.
Salt and Pepper escort Dominique through the open vault door and down the main corridor.
‘Hold it!’ The two MTI security guards at the end of the hall raise their weapons. ‘No one leaves the facility without Mrs. Mabus’s permission. Stop or we’ll fire.’
The three continue running toward them.
The lead guard fires – the electrical burst immediately absorbed by their suits.
‘Fubishit-’
Ryan Beck is first to reach them. Grabbing each guard by the back of the neck, he slams their heads against the steel door, knocking them out.
Delray Beach, Florida
The estate home at the end of the cul-de-sac is similar to the other mansions in this very private, gated West Delray community. Like other homes, it overlooks a lake on three acres of land. It has a tennis court, a basketball court, and a pool, but seldom are they used-except when the grandkids come to visit. In fact, the only amenities its owner uses these days are the satellite dishes, and, of course, the live-in private security personnel.
Ominous clouds have blanketed the sky by the time the canary yellow Amphibian skids to a halt in front of the automated guardhouse located at the main entrance of the community.
Immanuel Gabriel climbs out. Presses the ID pad.
REMAIN BY YOUR VEHICLE, SIR. STATE YOUR BUSINESS.
‘Samuel Agler to see Frank Stansbury.’
STAND BY.
Heavy raindrops plop against the multicolored pavers. Come on…
PLEASE WAIT. MR. STANSBURY’S SECURITY VEHICLE WILL ESCORT YOU TO THE HOME MOMENTARILY. HAVE A NICE DAY.
Droplets have turned into a downpour by the time the security vehicle pulls up to the outer gate. An armed guard climbs out of the back seat, signaling for Immanuel and Lauren to get inside.
As the door closes and they drive into the complex, a tow truck arrives to haul the Amphibian away.
Inside the car, the driver says nothing. Immanuel notices Lauren’s hand is trembling. He squeezes it.
The vehicle enters the gated driveway of an estate, stopping beneath an enormous porte cochere, its rooftop shielding them from the rain.
The driver turns to face them. ‘Out you go. Mr. Stansbury is waiting for you inside.’
They exit the vehicle. Manny knocks on the imposing double oak door.
The door opens, releasing an aroma of glazed ham and stuffing.
The African-American is stooped over. The eyes are sunken, twitching behind old-fashioned spectacles. What’s left of the man’s hair has grayed.
The owlish smile is genuine, the voice a familiar rasp.
‘Hello, Manny. Been expectin’ you.’
Ennis Chaney, former president of the United States pulls his shocked godson in, out of the weather.
35
Friday Night
Manny sits alone on the sofa opposite Ennis Chaney’s mahogany desk, feeling lost in time. ‘Jacob told you I’d be coming?’
‘Years ago. Your brother’s ability to foresee certain events convinced me long ago to go along with his schemes.’
‘So what happens now?’
‘I don’t know. Jacob told me to expect you, nothing more. So let’s talk about your fiancee. Lovely girl. Why haven’t you told her who you really are?’
‘How can I? How do you tell the person you love that you’ve been living a lie, that you’re not the person you claim to be?’
‘She deserves to know. What if you two have children? They could turn out like Jake.’
‘I know.’
‘Tell her.’
‘I will.’
‘When?’
‘Soon.’
‘Do it tonight.’
Immanuel looks up at his godfather. ‘Why tonight? What’s the rush?’
‘Just do it tonight.’ He leans back in his easy chair. ‘Now go bring her in, and let’s see if I can help her out of the mess she’s in.’
Immanuel finds Lauren in one of the guest rooms, changing into dry clothes.
‘Lauren, I spoke with Chaney. He wants to help.’
‘Thank God.’ Lauren hugs her fiance, then follows him back to the office.
Chaney sits back in his chair and thinks. ‘Okay, young lady, let’s say you’re right. Let’s say Professor Gabeheart was murdered because he suspected something someone wanted kept quiet. How do we prove it? Where’s the evidence?’
‘The evidence is in Yellowstone,’ she says. ‘The evidence is hidden beneath the hot springs and caldera.’
‘Assume things are as bad as you say, that the caldera is getting ready to erupt. Who’d want to keep it secret? And how could they?’
